


A Brand New Nightmare

by Joyful_Bones



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Death, Free Play, PUBG AU, Ryan thinks he's badass and Meg's gonna ride him to victory, about as much as you'd expect on a murder island, phrasing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-07 15:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13437867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joyful_Bones/pseuds/Joyful_Bones
Summary: After waking up on an island in which the occupants must fight to the death, Ryan and Meg form an uneasy alliance in the hopes of surviving long enough to make it back home.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because Meg complained that there weren't enough fics where she and Ryan got to be badass Free Play buddies and she was absolutely correct. So I decided to do my best to rectify that. <3
> 
> (I'll be switching POV with each chapter, so Meg is up next.)

Ryan was careful. He circled the house twice, checking for any indications of it being occupied. The doors were shut, windows intact. When he chanced stepping out into the open, nobody fired at him. It looked safe as houses. Then again, houses didn't necessarily mean safety anymore.

Still, he hurried forward, bent low at the waist as he approached the building. He opened the door and immediately crouched, gun up and ready. His finger twitched against the trigger. A moment passed, then two. Ryan counted to ten and then let out a breath, cautiously lowering his weapon. There were no footsteps on the floor above. It looked clear.

Closing the door behind him to avoid getting taken by surprise, Ryan surveyed the room. He kept his footing light as he swept the ground floor. No corner went unchecked. When nothing jumped out at him, he headed upstairs, pausing only when he spotted a backpack in the middle of the floor. 

His already pounding heart quickened. Eagerly he knelt down and began searching through it for loot. If he could just find a scope, or some more ammo for his rifle...

The sound of a gun cocking made him freeze.

"Drop the gun," said a female voice, high but commanding. 

Ryan slowly raised his head. Quiet as a mouse, a young woman had stepped out from behind the door while he was distracted. Now he stared down the barrel of a shotgun.

"Do it," she ordered again. She readjusted her grip on the weapon, looking uncomfortable holding it. Ryan debated trying to yank it out of her hands, but not for very long. At this range, even a misfire would tear him apart.

"Okay," he said, reaching slowly to set his rifle on the floor. "I'm putting it down. See?"

"Hands behind your head!"

Jaw clenching, Ryan did as instructed, moving up against the wall while she picked up his weapon. Immediately the shotgun was on him again. For a minute they just stared at each other.

"Are you gonna shoot me?" Ryan couldn't help but ask. 

The woman squinted at him. "Depends. Are you a psychopath?"

"Sorry?"

"Are you a psychopath? Everybody is just running around killing each other for no reason, and I've been hiding in a bathroom for hours, so answer the question or I'll blow your brains out!" 

She grew more worked up as she went on, words rising in speed and volume. He prayed to a God he didn't believe in that nobody would hear her and come to investigate. 

Ryan's mind was racing. His hands dropped, but when she stiffened he was quick to raise them again.

"They're not crazy," he began, but was interrupted.

"I don't know about you, jackass, but where I come from we don't run around shooting people!"

"Okay, calm down," he said, eyeing her trigger finger nervously. "What's your name?"

There was a moment of silence while she frowned at him. 

"Meg," she answered finally. "Turney."

"Ryan Haywood. It's nice to meet you. Or well, it would be nicer if you didn't have a gun pointed at my junk."

"Suck it up."

Sweat dotted his brow, but he kept his tone calm. "Look, you're from Austin, right?"

"How did you know that?" she demanded, eyes aglow with suspicion and fear.

"Because that's where the stories come from. Haven't you heard them? There's been a crazy rumour going around about a murder island."

The gun lowered slightly, an odd expression crossing her face.

"But that's just a drunken story," she said quietly.

Ryan kept his eyes on her. "I thought so too. But then I woke up here, with this thing on my arm, and I realised it must be true."

He held out his arm, showing off the high-tech piece of a equipment encircling his wrist. It had a small screen with his pulse displayed, as well as a number. A counter that went down every time someone on the island died.  
It hadn't taken him long to figure that one out.

Meg looked at her own arm, where she wore an identical wrist brand. When she looked back, all of the bravado had melted away, replaced with pale-faced terror.

"What the hell is going on?" she whispered.

Ryan let out a breath. He risked lowering his hands but Meg didn't react.

"Do you know the Hunger Games?" he asked. She nodded. "I'm guessing it's like that. Some sick bastard has been kidnapping people off the streets and bringing them to this island to fight to the death. The last one standing gets to return home, and tell drunken stories that nobody believes."

The shotgun drooped, the hand supporting it instead coming up to cover her mouth. She looked close to tears, shoulders shaking. Ryan fidgeted uncomfortably. 

"Look- Meg, was it? You seem like a nice girl, and I'm sorry you got caught up in all this. But you don't have to shoot me. I'll take my gear and walk away, and we'll hopefully never cross paths again."

He tried to keep his tone soothing, but it had the opposite effect. Meg hardened, gripping her shotgun tighter.

"You're not going anywhere," she told him firmly.

His heart dropped. "Please," he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. "I have a family."

"So do I!" she cried. "I have people I need to get back to as well, but I can't do this! I'm not some crazy person with mad sniping skills. I've never hurt anybody in my life."

Ryan stood stiffly, waiting for her to calm down. He resolved not to open his mouth again while her finger was on the trigger. His sass had gotten him into trouble plenty of times before. 

She took a steadying breath.

"You're going to help me," she decided.  
Ryan's brain short-circuited. "I'm what now?"

"You heard me." She gestured with her gun. "Unless you want to be shot right now, promise that you'll help me survive. You look like you know what you're doing, which isn't creepy at all, by the way."

"I'm not a psychopath," he defended. Then he thought about it for a moment. "...fine."

"I want your word, Haywood."

"You have my word. I'll let you stay with me and try to show you how to stay alive. Deal?"

They stared at each other. Outside, the sound of gunshots reached them. Distant, but alarming all the same.

Meg lowered the gun and stuck out her hand.

"Deal."

Letting out an enormous breath, Ryan stepped forward and shook her hand briskly.

"Okay then. May I?" He gestured to his gun.

She nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. But no funny business. Is that armour?"

He paused in picking up his rifle, looking down at his chest.

"Uh, yeah. I found it."

"Give it to me," she said.

He spluttered. "No!" he said, indignant.

"I have a gun."

"So do I," he shot back, aiming his rifle back at her. "I'm not giving you my armour, find your own!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't test me Haywood. I'll shoot you in the balls. I absolutely will."

"Look," he said, frustrated. "Let's just go out and find you some armour of your own. And stop threatening me, we're supposed to be working together."

She had gone pale again. "You mean, go outside? Where the crazy people are?"

Ryan didn't blame her for being anxious. His tone softened.

"Relax. We'll be quiet and stealthy. With luck, no one will bother us. While hiding out here has worked for you so far, it's a death trap in the long run. We need supplies. I've been on the move since I realised what was going on and I'm fine."

"You almost got your brains blown out by a random girl," she pointed out.

"Okay," he conceded, "But I didn't. My natural charm and persuasion skills saved me. Case in point."

"You're not charming," she said with a snort. "You wouldn't even give me your armour. Chivalry is dead."

"Well if we stay here, we'll be dead too."

"Fine. Lead the way Haywood."

"Just Ryan is fine," he said. "Stay close to me and try not to draw attention to yourself."

With the brunette trailing behind, Ryan searched the rest of the house quickly before heading back downstairs. When they reached the door he paused. Gave a glance over at Meg. She nodded, lips pressed together tightly. 

Ryan opened the door and together they stepped out into the war zone.

 

 

 

"I found some Red Bull," Meg called from the stairs. "Why is there Red Bull?"

Ryan paused from where he'd been searching the roof of an old, abandoned house. 

"Keep it, it's the only food or drink I've seen all day!"

He could hear her muttering as she went back down the stairs, presumably to finish looting. Fortunately there'd been a heavy duty backpack in one of the rooms, so at least now Ryan wasn't the only one carrying stuff. Even if it did look funny seeing the giant pack on such a small young woman. 

Lips twitching, Ryan scanned the horizon periodically as he moved across the roof. There were empty fields in all directions, some with dusty roads cutting through them. Houses dotted the skyline. To the west lay a forest of trees where the ground sloped upwards into a hill. 

There was nobody in sight, but that didn't mean they wouldn't pop up out of a bush somewhere. Some people had grabbed weapons immediately and run into the fray. But others had hidden, and they worried him more.

His boot knocked against something. He looked down to see a thick helmet next to a stack of ammo. Ryan quickly pocketed the bullets before picking up the helmet. He turned it over in his heads, then paused. With a sigh, he tucked it under his arm and headed for the stairs.

On the ground floor, Meg was trying to shove as many cans in her backpack as possible. They clanged loudly enough to make Ryan cringe. 

"Look what I found," he said.

Meg looked up. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Ryan stepped forward and held out the helmet.

"What about the rest of me?" she asked as she stood up. 

Ryan planted the helmet on her head.

"Would you rather be shot in the back or the brain?"

"Don't see how it matters either way," she muttered, adjusting it. Then she looked sheepish. "Thanks, though."

The small show of gratitude was enough to make Ryan regret giving it to her a little less.

"What did you find?" he asked.

"Just some cans and a compensator. Here, you can have it."

"Thanks. I found some stuff for your shotgun too. But you should keep an eye out for a ranged weapon."

She clutched her shotgun protectively. "But I like this one."

"Don't look at me like that, I don't want your shotgun," he said, offended by her suspicious squinting. 

"He's just jealous, baby," she murmured to her weapon.

Ryan opened his mouth to argue, but huffed instead.

"Come on," he said eventually. "There's nothing else here."

Meg moved to grab her pack and by the time she turned back Ryan was already out the door. He heard her cry out indignantly before hurrying to catch up.

"There's no need to be an ass about it!" she complained when she reached him. 

Whatever he might have said in reply was drowned out by a spray of bullets. They burst along the ground ahead of them and sent up clouds of dirt and grass. Ryan immediately ducked, then sprinted for a row of bushes, trusting Meg to follow. Sure enough, when he slid to a stop amongst the brambles, Meg was right there beside him, breath coming fast.

"Holy fuck," she hissed. Keeping low to the ground, Ryan pulled his rifle around to face the front. He peered through the leaves. The crack of a gunshot came again, but this time it was nowhere near them.

"They're not shooting at us," Ryan realised. There were two sets of firing, and while it was very close, and very loud, none of them strayed too close to their hiding place. 

He said, "Stay down. Let them fight each other."

"I hope they kill each other, the crazy bitches."

Ryan hummed an agreement. Bullets continued to fly. A grenade exploded too close for comfort, making both of them jump. Then someone came tearing out of the trees at full speed. They ran in a zig-zagging pattern and looked like they were heading straight for the bushes where Ryan and Meg hid.

Ryan gripped his rifle. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Meg aim her shotgun. In seconds the threat would be upon them. 

They were barely a few feet away another shot rang out. The stranger stumbled. Blood pooled from their throat and then they fell down, letting out one final gurgle before falling still. A moment passed. Meg relaxed her grip, but Ryan kept his eyes on the tree line.

Sure enough, a second person appeared, moving far more leisurely than the first. They made their way cautiously to the body. Meg sucked in a breath and Ryan grabbed her wrist, squeezing tightly. She put her hand over her mouth.

In perfect stillness they watched the stranger approach the body and, when it was clear they weren't moving, the winner started rifling through their pockets. Whatever they found must not have been very satisfying, because they let loose another bullet into the corpse. It was close enough to make their ears ring. Ryan bit his cheek so hard it bled. 

But then the stranger was moving away. Meg and Ryan laid there a moment longer. Then, without speaking, Ryan released her arm and rose to a crouch. He aimed down the sights of his rifle at the retreating figure. His hands were sweating and he bit his lip, focusing hard.

"What are you doing?" Meg asked, alarmed. "Don't!"

She pushed on the butt of his gun until he lowered it.

"We should kill him," Ryan said.

"He's leaving. If you miss, he's going to know where we are. Why take the risk?"

Ryan watched the stranger until they were long out of sight.

"See?" said Meg. "Now he's gone, and we didn't get shot. Hooray."

He muttered begrudgingly. "Yeah, alright."

There were no more sounds of conflict or movement so after another second of listening Ryan stood up, eager to get away from here. 

Meg took a moment to stare at the body.

"He just killed him," she said. 

"Hey, come on," Ryan called, backtracking to jostle her shoulder. Meg blinked at him with wide eyes, a smudge of dirt on her face from where they'd been laying. She looked painfully out of her league. Ryan doubted he looked much different. Probably worse.

He squeezed her bicep until her gaze sharpened. "Meg, focus, we've gotta get out of here."

"This is so messed up," she said, but followed him. "How are you so calm?"

He glanced back at her incredulously. "You think I'm calm? That nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Wow, okay old man. Don't strain yourself."

Ryan definitely contemplating shooting her.

 

 

They walked all day, stopping only for quick breaks wherever they could find cover. Meg drank a Red Bull and offered one to Ryan. He took it, but stowed it away in his backpack for later. Who knew when or even if they would find more. He'd yet to see a scrap of food in this place. There weren't even any animals. Apparently it wasn't just the people that struggled to survive here. What he'd give to see a bird, even a small one. They could shoot it down, fry it up, have themselves a nice little chicken dinner...

"There's a building," Meg said, snapping him out of his daydream. A good thing too, and his heart skipped a beat. It wouldn't do to lose focus.

There was in fact a house, and a shed adjacent to it. Ryan did his usual sweep, but this time he had Meg there watching his back. Despite everything it did make him feel better to not be alone. 

Once they were inside and deemed it clear, Meg went straight to the kitchen and turned on the tap. Nothing came out.

"What the hell," she said with a frown.

"There's nothing," said Ryan. "I've checked every house. I'll bet you anything the cupboards are empty."  
Sure enough, she went through every cupboard and drawer and found nothing. She waved away a cloud of dust.

"What are we supposed to eat?" she demanded.

"We don't," he answered grimly. "We're supposed to die. It's a game, remember? Everything we find seems like it's been placed strategically. Somebody has set all this up."

Meg went quiet, taking in the empty kitchen. Ryan took a deep breath.

"A person can only last so long without food or water. We have a couple of days in this heat, maybe a week, before we all die anyway. That's why everybody's so frantic. They need to be the last one standing before starvation or thirst kills them."

Meg looked at her wristband and so did Ryan. Both of them took in the number. There were seventy-three people left alive. As they watched, it changed to seventy-two, but no shot rang out. Whoever died, either did so quietly, or far away. 

"This is insane," she whispered. 

"Yeah," he said, stomach full of lead. 

Feeling uncomfortable, he left her to her own devices and went to check out the shed. There was not a lot inside. He found a wad of bandages and stashed them, trying not to think about the fortuitous placement of it. The shed was small and dark, but there was only one entrance. It would be easier to defend than the house, if they chose to stay here for the night. Already the sky was darkening and Ryan felt exhaustion settle heavily in his bones.

Decision made, he headed back to the house, moving quietly. When he stepped inside, he paused. Meg was no longer in the kitchen but in a side room. She stood looking out the window with her back to him. The fading sunlight lit up her silhouette in a way that was almost beautiful.

A cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. His heart beat slowed and his mind went strangely numb. All the while Meg stood there, totally unaware of his presence.

Silently, Ryan lifted his rifle and lined up the sights on her back.

His finger settled on the trigger.

For a long, tense moment, he tried to convince his hands to cooperate. But they stayed frozen on the gun. He bit his bottom lip until it hurt. Another second ticked past, and then Ryan lowered the weapon. All of the tension flooded out of him in a harsh breath.

"God damn it," he muttered.

Meg turned around. "What was that?"

"Uh, there's a shed outside. We should hide out there. Less easy to be caught by surprise that way."

She shrugged. "Sure."

Ryan turned his back on her and tried to ignore the way the back of his neck prickled. Footsteps followed him out of the house, and with every step he expected a bullet in the back of his head. It never came.

Night fell and it grew colder. Meg and Ryan barricaded themselves inside the shed. Now both of them sat facing the only door.

"Do you think anyone will come in?" Meg asked.

Ryan shrugged. "I'm just hoping nobody throws a grenade in here, to be honest."

"Oh. Nice." Her sarcasm wasn't lost on him, just unappreciated.

"I'll take first watch," he said.

She straightened up from where she'd been slouched against the wall.

"No, I will."

They stared each other down. Ryan narrowed his eyes. Meg's lips pursed stubbornly.

"Fine," Ryan grumbled. "Do what you want, just don't shoot me in my sleep. Or let anyone else shoot me in my sleep."

"Oh trust me, it's tempting," she retorted.

"That doesn't make me feel better!"

She stuck her tongue out at him. Ryan returned the gesture, forgetting for a moment the situation they were in. They pulled faces at each other petulantly for a while longer before falling into silence. The quiet felt unnatural. Ryan was used to city life, but there wasn't even any sounds of birds or nocturnal critters. He strained his ears in the hopes of hearing anything, maybe a cricket. But there was nothing.

Goosebumps rose up on his skin. He convinced himself it was just from the cold.

"In the morning," Meg said to herself, "I'm gonna wake up, and this will all have been a crazy dream."

Ryan closed his eyes and hoped she was right.


	2. Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Day 2 on murder island and these pair are starting to lose the plot a little bit. Meg's POV.
> 
> (I'll be updating the tags as I go so check them when you read!)

"Oh my god," Meg said, staring down at the body.

"Whelp," Ryan agreed. 

Meg had been startled awake early in the morning by a gun shot that was terrifyingly close. Waking up to Ryan hovering over her with a gun hadn't done anything to help settle her nerves. After waiting for whatever fight was going on to pass, they agreed that it was best that they moved on. Which was how they ended up here.

Having rounded the corner of a house Meg had almost tripped over the body of a man. There were bullet wounds in his torso and it was clear that he had bled out.

Meg took a step backwards, sickened, only to bump into Ryan as he moved forward and past her. She gaped when he crouched down and started searching the corpse.

"Keep watch," he said.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, tone inching towards shrill. "You can't just violate dead bodies, you creep!"

He paused to shoot her a look. "We need supplies," he pointed out, "And it's not like he's using them. And look, they have body armour for you."

Her mouth had been open ready to argue, but now she closed it.

"What size is it?"

Ryan handed it to her. Meg dusted it off and then tugged it on, already feeling more secure. Light blinded her suddenly, and when she squinted it turned out to be the sun reflecting off the giant blade Ryan was currently holding. He angled the machete this way and that before strapping it to his hip.

"You have a gun," Meg pointed out. "What do you want a machete for?"

He shrugged, saying cryptically, "You never know when it might come in handy."

"You just want to look cool."

The way his cheeks flushed proved that she had hit the nail on the head with that one. They finished looting, sharing the ammunition between them before setting off again.

Meg wasn't sure how to feel about Ryan. With his deep voice and six feet of height he should have been the stereotypical hero, but somehow Meg doubted it. His attitude swung wildly between comforting and creepy. On the one hand, he moved with purpose and his intense paranoia made Meg feel confident they wouldn't be caught by surprise any time soon. On the other hand, he seemed kind of crazy.

Still, Meg felt better knowing that she wasn't alone.

"Have you killed anyone yet?" she asked, still thinking about the bodies they had seen.

He answered seemingly without thinking. "I've only got one kill so far. Well, actually the guy fell off the roof, but I was fighting him at the time so I think it counts. I did down one other person before running away though."

Something about the way he phrased it made Meg stop and stare at him. Ryan seemed to snap back into focus, peering at her.

"Why are you looking at me?"

"I just figured it out," she said.

"What?"

"You," she said with awe, "Are a giant nerd."

His face when red and he fumbled his words. Meg fought the urge to laugh at him.

"It makes it easier to imagine it as a video game," he got out finally.

Meg shook her head, sobering. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense I guess. I'm going to try that too."

"You play?"

"Why do you sound so surprised? Girls can play games, dude. I'm probably better at it than you."

He back-pedalled, "No, I know! I didn't mean it like that. I just didn't think we'd have anything in common."

Meg studied him. "Neither did I," she admitted.

"It's just..." He sighed and lowered his gun to rub at his eyes. "This is all way too crazy. If I think about it too hard, I'm going to lose my mind."

"So. A video game."

"Whatever works to keep us sane," he said. "I've seen people run screaming empty-handed at somebody with a machine gun. We've got to keep it together. Or we're as good as dead."

"I'm going to need to much therapy when this is over."

For moment a look of complete exhaustion washed over Ryan's face. Meg was alarmed by the shadows in his eyes and wondered if he had begun his attempt at distancing before or after his fight on the roof.

"Yeah," he said. "You and me both."

 

 

 

"Wait a second," said Meg. 

Ryan immediately dropped low to the ground, scanning their surroundings. His movement disturbed the long strands of grass they were wading through like water. Meg hoped there were no snakes. Or crazy people with guns, but you know. Snakes too.

"What?" he asked now, tone alarmed.

"I can't see any people," she assured him. "But look over there. Is that a car?"

He relaxed slightly. Straightening up in the long grass, he followed her finger with his gaze. She was pointing to where a dusty green car sat at the edge of the field. 

"It's probably broken," he doubtfully. "We've passed a few cars like that already."

"But this one looks like it's got all its wheels on. And like it hasn't exploded recently."

"It's probably broken," he repeated, but Meg wondered if he was just trying to keep from getting his hopes up. Especially when he changed direction to head towards the vehicle she'd spotted. The closer they got, the more certain Meg became that she was right. The car looked in better condition than anything else they'd seen today. Even the windscreen was free of bugs.

They were almost there when Meg noticed a disturbance in the grass ahead of them. The top of a helmet bobbed between the strands. Somebody was sprinting for the vehicle, staying low out of sight.

"Shit!" Throwing caution to the wind, Meg picked up the pace. She wasn't about to let some asshole steal the car she had spotted. If she could get there in time she could catch them before they took off with her find.

She heard a yelp from Ryan but didn't pause or look back. Instead she surged forward, out of the field and up onto the road where the stranger was currently just hopping into the driver's seat. As they fumbled for the keys Meg whipped up the barrel of her shotgun to aim at them.

"Get out of the car!" she shouted. 

The stranger looked at her. They turned the key and the engine growled to life. Meg's eyes widened and she gripped her weapon tighter. Down the barrel of her gun she saw the person's face turn ashen grey.

"Now!" she ordered them.

The moment Meg blinked the stranger let go of the keys and instead scrambled for their gun. They were halfway out of the car before Meg shot them.

The sound was so shocking that she almost fumbled her gun. A few feet away the stranger did drop theirs, stumbling backwards with the force of the shrapnel tearing their chest open. They hit the car and bounced off, bidding the ground with a thickening thud.

Meg stared. For a second her brain stopped functioning. Then sounds of a scuffle nearby filtered through the ringing in her ears. Foolishly, she looked away from the still gurgling enemy and saw that Ryan was at the edge of the grass. It looked like somebody had taken him by surprise and he was now facing off against a woman with a frying pan. He was clutching the back of his head, gun nowhere to be seen.

Mind clearing, Meg lurched towards them but something grabbed her foot. She looked down. The stranger's eyes were open, lips bloody as they stared at her pleadingly. 

"Please," they wheezed, eyes pained and desperate. 

Meg felt like she should have cried, or screamed, or thrown up. But instead of doing any of that she steeled her nerve and levelled her gun on them. They closed their eyes, looking relieved. 

Meg pulled the trigger once more, then left to help Ryan.

"Hold on!" she yelled.

Ryan glanced at her. The woman took advantage of the distraction by lunging forward, swinging the frying pan with all her might. He just barely managed to leap out of the way. Her momentum sent her stumbling and before she could regain their balance Meg watched as Ryan drew the machete from his belt. It swung through the air, gleaming bright silver.

The woman screamed. Meg didn't see the blow land, but she could see Ryan's arm come back again and again, hacking down in desperation until the shrieking stopped. Shocked, Meg careened to a halt a safe distance away. Past Ryan's legs she could see an arm sprawled out, and the pan abandoned nearby. There was not a sound except for Ryan's heaving breaths. He stood hunched over the body, shoulders rising and falling quickly.

"Ryan?" Meg called carefully.

He spun around so fast that she flinched. With the blood splattered on his shirt and still gripping the machete, he looked like something from a nightmare. She didn't like the wild glint in his eye.

Heart pounding in her ears, Meg willed her tone to stay even as she spoke.

"You got her," she said, forcing a positive lilt into her voice. "Good job buddy. That makes two points for you now, and only one for me."

For too long Ryan just stared at her, seemingly incomprehensive. He swallowed hard.

"You'd better catch up then," he said, voice raspy. 

But his breathing was beginning to even out now and Meg allowed herself to relax. She could feel her own panic hovering just at the edge of her thoughts. There was a body behind her. Someone that she had killed, alone. 

"It's a game, remember?" she reminded herself, and Ryan nodded too.

"Right."

He looked down at the body, before blanching and dropping the blade. Meg watched him take three big steps back.

"The car?" he asked, deliberately turning away from the bloody mess in the grass.

"It runs," she confirmed. "How about I loot here while you go and check it out?"

Ryan agreed immediately. He fled past her to the road, where a body and the car was waiting. At once Meg slumped, all of the air rushing out of her.

Now she could see the body. There were horrific slashes across the neck and torso. The woman's eyes were wide open but unseeing. She had a few bandages in her pockets, but not a single weapon. Meg searched her again, just in case she missed something, and then frowned. Who was running around in a place like this with only a frying pan?

She looked at the pan on the ground. Strange that this woman had managed to get the jump on Ryan. Maybe he wasn't the most reliable protector after all. Meg picked the pan up and turned it over in her hands, then shrugged and strapped it so it hung across her back.

She gave one last look at the body. For some reason she felt more sorry for this woman than she did for the poor soul on the road. Maybe because she hadn't been out to kill anyone, instead choosing to stay a pacifist. At least as much as was possible in these conditions.

Meg closed the woman's eyes. Then she stashed the medical supplies and walked away, scooping up Ryan's rifle from where he had dropped it.

When she returned to the road, Ryan had finished searching the body and was checking the engine of the car. One hand rubbed at the back of his head.

"Alright?" she checked, keeping her eyes averted from the body on the road.

He grimaced, dropping his hand. "Yeah. She got me in the back of the head before I could turn around."

"Here, you dropped this."

She held out his gun and he took it sheepishly.

"Thanks."

"How does it look?" Meg asked, nodding towards the car.

Ryan shrugged, closing the bonnet. "I honestly have no idea. I'm better with computers than cars. It seems to be intact, that's as far as I've got."

He headed around and got in the driver's seat.

"Hang on," Meg interrupted. "How come you get to drive? I spotted it first!"

"Can you even reach the pedals?" he asked.

"Wow. Wow. Fuck you Haywood."

"Come on, you've already got the shotgun! I'll drive, you shoot."

Muttering at the audacity, Meg climbed into the passenger's seat. 

Ryan turned the key. Just like before, the motor came to life with a satisfying rumble. They looked at each other. Meg grinned, almost hysterically, and to her surprise Ryan beamed back.

"Now we're getting somewhere," he said, pushing down on the gas. 

They took off like a shot. Meg grabbed the dashboard for support, looking around for seat-belts that didn't exist. Their wheels churned up dirt whenever they went off road. The wind did its best to try and pry her hair out from beneath her helmet, and blew Ryan's flat against his forehead.

They hit a bump and went sailing through the air. Both Meg and Ryan let out a yelp, then a whoop when they touched down safely.

For the first time since this horrible situation began, Meg felt like laughing.

It took only minutes to reach the next house. Ryan slammed the breaks and spun the steering wheel, screeching to a stop by the door.

"Let's loot quickly," he said. 

Meg was already hopping out of the car, keeping an eye on the windows. The house was empty of people but they found ammunition. Ryan called her over to pick up what looked like a machine gun.

"Think you can carry both?" he asked idly, looking at her shotgun.

"I'm getting real sick of your jokes about my height, Haywood," she said. 

He grinned and ducked when she swiped at him. Still, she took the gun, and the weak scope that she found with it. 

"Watch my back," Ryan said from behind her.

When Meg turned around, Ryan had put his gun down and pulled his shirt over his head. Confused, she kept watch out of the window, glancing over occasionally. He grabbed a shirt he had found and pulled it on. This one was black with long sleeves, but most importantly, it wasn't covered in blood. Ryan looked up as he was buttoning it, meeting her eye.

"I didn't mean literally," he joked.

"Feel better?" she asked.

He smoothed down the front of his shirt. "Much." 

Retrieving his weapons and armour, he joined her by the window. Both of them checked outside. Their car sat untouched, and there was no movement around it.

"Looks clear."

"Where are we going anyway?" asked Meg.

"Everyone we've seen so far has been heading for the middle of the island," said Ryan. "So that's where we're going too."

"Shouldn't we be avoiding the people?"

"Maybe they know something we don't. Either there's something in the centre that can help us, or that's where the final stand is going to be. Either way, if we get there first, we'll be in a better position than the rest."

Meg nodded along. "Okay. Kind of throws stealth out the window though. We shouldn't drive the whole distance or we'll give away our position. Somebody else might have had the same idea and already be bunkered down waiting to pick us off."

"Yeah, good call."

She elbowed him. "We probably won't even make it there with the way you drive."

"Hey!"

"I bet you suck at racing games."

"I still know how to drive a car," he defended. "I'd just feel better if I was driving."

"Control freak."

The conversation fizzled out when they left the house, not wanting to be so frivolous out in the open. Meg's eyes darted around. Nobody took a shot at them, and in the next second they were in the car and speeding away.

She relaxed back into the seat. For some reason being in a vehicle made her feel less vulnerable. Let someone try to shoot at them, they'd be long gone before the enemy even raised their gun. Meg leaned her arm on the door and watched the world fly past.

Something exploded in front of them.

Their vision was suddenly filled with fire and smoke. Jumping in her seat, Meg craned her neck around to stare at the crater that hadn't been there a second ago. Ryan swore loudly and swerved around it, but as he glanced back to where she was looking, another bomb dropped somewhere to their right.

Grabbing onto her helmet, Meg stared in horror at the way the earth erupted outwards, consumed by flame. Ryan was shouting but the explosions were so loud Meg couldn't understand a word of what he was saying. It seemed to be mostly cursing anyway.

"Shit!" she cried when another one dropped too close for comfort. Ryan stomped on the gas until the engine roared loudly enough to rival the bombs. Meg wished desperately that their car had a rooftop, as if that would save them.

The explosions were so blinding that she almost missed the dark shape on the horizon.

"Over there!" she shouted. Then when Ryan didn't react she grabbed his arm and pointed, trying to yell over the cacophony. To their right she could see a grey building standing out against the skyline. 

Finally Ryan realised what she was saying and yanked the wheel hard. The wheels spun, tearing up grass before gaining traction. They drove as fast as they could towards the building. As they grew nearer Meg could make out that it was a shed or hanger of some kind.

Still fire and shrapnel rained down all around them. Something hit their car with a loud crack, making her cry out. They were almost there. Just a little bit further...

The ground exploded on the driver's side, rocking the car with the impact. Intense heat swept through the vehicle. Meg curled away from it. So did Ryan, flinching from the rolling flames. His hands twisted instinctively on the wheel. The car lurched and took a hard left.

Meg was still blinking the heat out of her eyes when she saw the tree.

They hit it with a crunch. The impact rattled her bones and Meg was thrown forward. She barely managed to catch herself before going flying through the windshield. Their vehicle had come to a hard stop, the front third of it wrapped around a tree trunk while explosions continued to shake the ground.

Dazed and frantic, Meg glanced to her left. Ryan was slumped over the steering wheel. He didn't move when she called his name.

Her ears were ringing so loud now that she could hardly hear the bombs as they fell. What she did notice, however, was the flames that began to lick up from under the car's bonnet. She fumbled for the door in alarm. It finally opened and she tumbled out. 

When she staggered around to the driver's side of the vehicle Ryan still hadn't so much as twitched. She shook his shoulder and called his name. Meg couldn't even hear her own voice over the feedback in her ear. Thick plumes of smoke billowed from the car. The flames had nearly reached the dashboard.

Meg moved quickly, grabbing Ryan and heaving as hard as she could. Heat ravaged her arm. She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out. On the second attempt he slipped from the steering wheel and out of the car. She caught him, bowing heavily under the weight. Then she slung his arm around her shoulder and grabbed his waist. 

It was slow going, but Meg began to drag him away from the car. Ryan's eyelids fluttered and he fought to lift his head. Meg tried to get his legs under him but he slumped forward again, taking them both down.

They hit the ground just as the car exploded in a ball of fire. It was just as loud as the hail of bombs had been. Heat rolled across the grass in a wave, nipping at their legs where they had fallen. Breathing hard, Meg rolled over onto her back to stare at the destruction. There was a searing pain along her arm but she ignored it in favour of catching her breath. 

Beside her, Ryan stirred. He got his hands beneath him and pushed until he no longer had his face pressed in the dirt. It took a minute of shifting and groaning before he was sitting up. He said something. The words filtered strangely through Meg's ears.

"What?" she asked. He repeated himself. This time it was clearer, the ringing gradually fading. Meg rubbed at her ears for a second. "What?"

"...stopped. I think it's over," she heard him say, voice sounding oddly tinny.

Then she registered the words and looked around. They had crashed in a field, having managed to hit one of the few trees sprouting up from the dry earth. Surrounding them were deep craters surrounded by burning patches of grass. The area where they'd fallen, however, was untouched by the assault.

All of the air flew out of her in a rush. Meg fell backwards, throwing an arm over her eyes when they started to sting. The movement tugged painfully at her burned skin. 

"I don't ever," she said, voice croaky, "Ever want to hear another joke about my height."

There was movement beside her. "It's not my fault you're tiny."

"I carried your fat ass, didn't I?"

"Rude." More shifting. He spoke again, quieter this time. "I guess you did."

Meg dropped her arm to look at him. Soot covered his face, smeared by sweat. He looked from the car to her, then towards the shelter.

"Think you can carry me a little further?" he asked.

Meg lay there for a moment longer. Then she huffed a laugh and sat up, ignoring the ache in her muscles.

"I have to do everything around here," she joked breathlessly.

"Literally carrying the team," said Ryan. 

He stood up first, holding out a hand. Meg took it. She let him hoist her up, then put her arm around his waist and let him lean on her shoulder. They braced against each other and slowly made their way towards the building.

 

 

 

It turned out to be a hanger of some sort, though it was empty of vehicles. There were so many openings that it felt a little too exposed. But neither of them were very eager to step outside for a while after what they had just been through. Thankfully they found a little side room to bunker down in.

Now Meg sat cross-legged while Ryan wrapped a bandage around her forearm. She had burned it while pulling him out of the car, so it was only fair that he fix it. Or so she'd pointed out to him. In reality she just didn't want to do it one-handed. Instead of arguing, Ryan had taken the bandage and gone to work.

Meg watched him carefully wind it so it covered all of the burn. Exhaustion was beginning to settle in and the repetitive actions were entrancing to watch. She felt her eyelids grow heavier.

"It would have been easier to just let me die," Ryan said.

Meg stirred, blinking at him. "Huh?"

He pursed his lips, focusing on his task instead of looking at her.

"You could have left me and ran to safety."

It took a moment for Meg to find words to reply. When she did, she went with a gruff approach.

"Yeah, I could have. I'm your hero. And you didn't even thank me."

Ryan finished up. He met her eye then.

"Thank you," he said, entirely earnest. Meg fiddled with the bandage.

"It's fine," she said. "We've got to stick together."

"So that's it then. We're a proper team now."

"Hell yeah. Team Free Play. This is our game and we're gonna win it."

Ryan nodded and smiled at her. Meg returned it.

Before she went to sleep that night Meg checked Ryan's handiwork, finding the bandage loose enough that it wouldn't restrict her movements. She caught sight of the counter on her wrist.

Fifty-eight people left, besides her.

Fifty-eight people, and then she could go home.

Meg shot a glance at Ryan. 

Fifty-seven, she amended, and went to sleep before she could question that logic.

**Author's Note:**

> I finally cracked and wrote a fanfic, so leave a comment if you guys enjoy and would like more. <3


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